Indiana Jones and the Valley of the Vanished
by superamalgamated
Summary: An Indiana Jones - Doc Savage crossover
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This is to be a Indiana Jones - Doc Savage crossover story. "Living" in the same time period, it just seemed a natural that these characters would eventually cross paths. Everyone is familiar with Indiana Jones, but perhaps readers should know I'll be referencing material from all his appearances (movies, television, and novels). The Doc Savage character may not be as familiar to some, but I'll try to bring everyone up to speed along the way. This is not meant as a novel, but as a collection of short episodes spread out over many years. As this is my first attempt at a fan fiction story, I would appreciate any comments or suggestions. _

* * *

**August 1936**

Indiana Jones sighed heavily as Rene Belloq's rambling presentation wound down to its inevitable self-promoting conclusion. True to form, this year's Archaeological Society dinner was shaping up to be a disaster too. It was a tradition really, dating back to graduate school when he endured seeing his French rival win the annual Society Prize with his paper on stratigraphy—an effort that was obviously plagiarized from Indy's own work. And then two years ago Belloq did it again when he briefed a Rub al Khali desert expedition that Indy had planned for months, but his rival had somehow executed before him. Last year, the Frenchman had even stolen his date away with an ingratiating display of charm. Sure, Willie Scott's allure was fading anyway, but it was the principle of the matter. And now, here was Belloq again, briefing a glorious discovery of the Temple of the Chachapoyan Warriors in the South American jungle. The part about stealing a golden idol from Indy at blowgun point was neglected in the presentation, as was his frantic escape from the Hovitos Indians. Bastard. Someday Belloq would get what was coming to him.

Unable to look at the stage any longer, Indy gazed around the crowded room and saw with disgust that his archaeology peers were taking in the presentation with almost worshipful attention. Well, almost everyone. Two tables over, an incredibly thin man in a baggy suit seemed to share his distaste. Interesting. Perhaps it was another disgruntled colleague. Indy found himself wondering what had been done to this guy.

Applause interrupted Indy's thoughts and he realized that Belloq's brief was over. Tables were being cleared and scooted back for the dancing part of the evening. Dancing archaeologists. Now _that_ would be a sight to behold. And watching would be all he did this year, because he didn't dare take Susan to such a public event. Marshall College took a dim view of professors dating students, and even New York City wasn't far enough away to chance it.

Indy pushed his chair back and sauntered back towards the bar. Standing before him was the thin man, who was rather tall too, giving him an almost skeletal appearance. Besides having a suit that clearly didn't fit, he was also distinctive by a wealth of uncombed hair and a monocle that he carried, polishing absent-mindedly with a handkerchief. He looked vaguely familiar.

"Salutations and superior tidings Professor Jones", the tall man said with a quiet scholarly voice. "An extended temporal interlude has elapsed since our previous encounter."

Indy met the words with a blank stare. "Excuse me, but was that English? I'm pretty good with languages, but I'm really not sure."

"My apologies. The neoverbalistic vocabulary is a contemporary affection of mine, which I confess is utilized primarily to exasperate my business colleagues. I will endeavor to converse less precisely. William Harper Littlejohn is the name. Do you remember me now Henry? Or should I say Henri?"


	2. Chapter 2

Indy eyes widened at the mention of his old _nom de guerre. _Henri Defense was the alias he used to enlist in the Belgian Army during the Great War. "Indy is what you should say. That's what I'm called now. Is that really you Johnny? I haven't seen you in almost 20 years! The Society Journal prints your papers all the time, but you're never here to present."

"Honestly, I am customarily on travel."

"Oh. I guess you would be. Are you still working with…?"

"Doctor Clark Savage, Junior? Affirmative, his adventures definitely justify the extended leave of absence from the university. I imagine they would not contemplate my return."

"I'm sure they would Johnny. You're a tenured professor after all. And you've written some amazing articles. My friend Marcus has even suggested you're… exaggerating just a little."

"On the contrary, I cannot divulge the complete account. My essays are merely samples of the exploits. Marcus Brody comprehends because I have delivered sufficient evidence to him personally."

"Someday you'll have to take me with you."

One look at Indy's face was enough to convince Johnny that he was serious. "Perhaps."

Indy bought drinks for himself and Johnny. They edged away from the crowded bar and over to the wall where they had an unobstructed view of their colleagues making fools of themselves on the dance floor.

Trying not to be too obvious, Indy peered at Johnny's face. "I thought you lost an eye in the war?"

"A grave ocular wound, but Doc was capable of its restoration. He's a remarkable surgeon."

"So I've heard. The rumor is Doc Savage is remarkable at just about everything."

"That is absolutely factual in any technology field: Chemistry, Physics, Engineering, Geology." Johnny lifted his glass to point at the dancing couples. "However, romance is a notable exception. Women compete for his attention, but he has zero comprehension of the species. Really, he is totally ignorant of the proper methods of conversing with them." Johnny noticed Indy's smile and couldn't resist returning it. "Which contrasts noticeably with myself."

Indy shifted the subject. "So what's your beef with Rene Belloq?"

"Simple. I detest braggarts, especially those with insinuations of antiquity trafficking. What annoys you? I understand you accompanied him on his recent Central America expedition?"

Indy gritted his teeth. "Accompany? Hardly. Somehow he followed me down there. He didn't say it, but I found the idol from the Chachapoyan Temple. Belloq stole it from me and has probably sold it by now. He seems to have connections all over the world for selling relics. I think I might've picked up a clue while I was down there."

"Please elucidate."

"I have a pilot friend down there named Jock Lindsey who is also a bit of a radio buff. He stumbled across some unusual radio chatter. He probably wouldn't have paid attention but there is talk of gold shipments. What's really odd is the mix of languages: English, Spanish, Quechua, and something else Jock didn't understand. I heard just a little when I was there, but I'd swear it was Mayan. Who would talk about gold shipments in Mayan? It sounds suspicious to me. And my first thought was Rene Belloq…"


	3. Chapter 3

The telephone on the 86th floor rang noisily. A powerful hand lifted the handset up and over to the muscular man who sat behind the enormous inlaid desk. From a distance, the size of the desk and the man would appear normal. It was only in comparison to the phone and an open book that the true dimensions were seen. Sitting in the office chair was a giant of a man, whose movements flowed with strength and grace. Impressive muscles rippled beneath skin bronzed by exposure to the tropical sun. Dr. Clark Savage, Jr. was an imposing man.

A controlled voice filled the room. "Hello. This is Doc speaking." There was no need for formality. Only a few trusted people knew the number to the direct line.

"It's Johnny. I'm calling from a pay phone. The Archaeological Society event is winding down and I couldn't wait to tell you what I found out."

A small smile appeared on Doc's face. Johnny seldom used his immense vocabulary against Doc, but the mere presence of contractions showed that his thin archaeologist aide was plenty excited.

"What did you discover?"

"You were right, Doc. My old friend Indy does know something about the gold shipments. How did you know?"

"Your friend Jones has been asking a lot of questions. How bad is the damage?"

"I think he's shaken up a hornet's nest. A pilot friend of his has been working out of Belize. Well, this pilot apparently overheard the weekly radio calls and understood just enough to get him curious. He put Indy on to it when they were working a job together a few weeks ago. Indy understood enough Mayan to figure out there are periodic gold shipments, but I don't think he knows from where."

"That doesn't sound that bad."

"It gets worse. He thinks the shipments may be connected with a French archaeologist and treasure hunter named Rene Belloq. Belloq has been a rival for years and Indy suspects him of selling antiquities for personal gain. In fact, he had just stolen a valuable piece from Indy before that last radio call. Indy thought he might've overhead details of a smuggling operation, but he wasn't able to get on the trail before he came home because his semester starts on Monday."

"Calm down Johnny. None of this sounds too bad."

"You don't understand. Indiana Jones NEVER gives up. He's hoping to convince Marcus Brody, his primary museum sponsor, to fund a trip to find Belloq on the selling end. And he's filed an international charge of antiquities theft and smuggling, which could draw the attention of the League of Nations. That's the hornet's nest."

"I see. This leaves me little choice. I need to divulge our funding source to them before an investigation gathers momentum."

"Doc, that could really put a spotlight on what we do. Should I do something to distract Indy?"

"No. I have an idea about that. Two officers from Army Intelligence have been bothering me about helping track some Nazi treasure hunters. I told them it wasn't our line of work, but perhaps Dr. Jones would enjoy it."


End file.
